Mrs Robinson
by 19sixty
Summary: Elena, Mrs. Robinson, thought she put all her secrets in a hiding place where no one ever goes. However, after Grace Grey uncovers Elena's covert misconducts with younger men, including a secret affair with her then-adolescent son, Christian, she extends a perverted peace offering, referring Elena to family psychiatrist, young Dr. Flynn. But, at her core, Elena remains a temptress.


**Summary:** Elena, Mrs. Robinson, thought she put all her secrets in a hiding place where no one ever goes. However, after Grace Grey uncovers Elena's covert misconducts with younger men, including a secret affair with her then-adolescent son, Christian, she extends a perverted peace offering, referring Elena to family psychiatrist, young Dr. Flynn. Together, Elena and Flynn embark on a psychological, pseudosexual journey, revealing many of Elena's most intimate secrets. But, at her core, despite Flynn's counseling, Elena remains a temptress. Even the well-trained Dr. Flynn may not be able to resist her prowess.

**From the Author:** Firstly, thanks for opening this page. Secondly, I'd like to address what I am writing; I understand that the _Fifty Shades_ trilogy is a fanfic-spin off of _Twilight_. Personally, I believe both series were poorly written, yet utterly juicy and addicting. I just finished reading _Freed, _and I have many ideas floating around my head about a "Mrs. Robinson" story. I write this story hoping that I don't let you down! But I will tell you a little about myself. Like Ana, I am an English major. My degree focuses on concentration in creative writing, rather than literature. However, I am a complete lit-nerd, too. I hope you enjoy my first attempt at fan fiction. Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you! - M

**Mrs. Robinson**

**Chapter One: Linc **

"Elena, anything you tell me will stay between us. I am here for you to talk to," an overpriced shrink sitting in a mustard colored chair says to me. I consider telling him nothing. But I suspect that he will report back to Grace Grey, who has extended these sessions to me as a favor, a perverted peace offering. Perverted, Grace would say, is a quality with which I should be very familiar, however. And I am in no position scorn any efforts from Grace, whose family I hurt immensely. I flex my ankles at the end of the velvet chaise lounge and fold my hands neatly in my lap. The set up of the office is very Freudian.

"I assume Grace has mentioned me in her sessions," I assess, eyeing him. He is much younger than I am. In fact, he is very attractive. We met briefly before, in a social setting, yet I did not notice his looks. Suddenly, I become uncomfortable with the prospect of speaking so candidly to a man I would have once considered making my submissive.

"Mrs. Grey and I discuss many topics, the weather, for example. However, Mrs. Lincoln, tonight we are here to discuss you," he says warmly, shifting in his seat to lean closer to where I sit. "We could begin with your relationship with your former husband, if you prefer. I will just sit here and listen," the shrink tells me. For a moment, I consider ending the appointment before it begins, but perhaps in a moment of clouded judgment, I decided to dive in headfirst and expose myself. I begin slowly.

"Well, Dr. Flynn, my husband had always provided for me; I never wanted for anything. It was the main reason I tolerated him. You could say I _adored_ our lifestyle together. He had been most agreeable in our relationship, our arrangement. Linc and I were very calculated together; we treated our issues as stipulations. We would settle upon nonnegotiable terms to solve whatever was problematic. I was smitten with the impeccable order of our relationship.

Both Linc and I had expressive needs. Between destroying forests with his cell phone to run his timber business and fucking his little twenty-something secretary, he maintained our marriage by funding my every wish. You're probably wondering why this man ever married me, rather than remain single and marry Twenty-Something. I suppose he admired me for my tenacity and my stubbornness. Additionally, I connected him with many local wealthy families and new clients. In that way, I fueled his ego, his need for power. Linc and I were heavily involved in power struggles. For the longest time, this similarity bound us together. Anyway, in regards to love and sex, I preferred that he fucked Twenty-something; he couldn't satisfy my needs. Every powerful woman has certain animalistic, raw and primal needs that weak men such as my ex husband could never assuage. And it would be unwise to beat the piss out of the checkbook. No, Linc was far too fragile to play my way. So I controlled him though alternative methods; I allowed him to fuck Twenty-something, to love her, so long as he gratified my every material fantasy. I dominated our arrangement. I have no need for love. Control is much more desirable. Saint that he is, Linc looked the other way while my needs were met. Rather, while my needs were monetarily met. Nevertheless, such basic needs are never quelled for long.

Linc was a businessman, and I consider myself a businesswoman. While Linc dealt with timber prices and profit margins, I managed younger, eager young men. Often, these young men were reeling with aggression and were desperate for some rapturous release. I provided such an outlet. I made it so that they did not have to think, or dwell in their own thoughts about their pitiful lives. They just had to obey me, please me, submit to me. And if they did not, I made it clear that I had been discontented.

"You hit like my mother," one particularly unruly young man once told me. I considered that blow the most infuriating remark I could ever hear as a Dominant. He broke a cardinal a rule, insulting his possessor, his master. He just did not have it in his character to be a Submissive. I imagine he's a Dominant, now, somewhere. I do not know for sure; my relationship with the men of earlier days never did last too long. Unlike Linc, who I am sure was and still is in a very happy, long-term relationship with Then-Twenty-Something, I consider all relationships disposable. In all of my life, I believed I made only one relationship that had the potential to withstand the test of time."

"Christian Grey," Flynn interrupts and I am annoyed.

"Yes, with Christian. I thought our time together was always very _therapeutic_. I introduced the poor boy to contracted submissives. Like myself, Christian appreciated the order, the black-and-whiteness of a proper set of rules to accompany the lifestyle." I pause, collecting my thoughts, leading away from the subject of Christian. It is still too soon.

"The first contractual submissive I possessed was a graduate student named Daniel. I entertained him before Linc bought residential property in Washington. By possessing, I mean that Daniel was mine. He did as a said, nothing more, and nothing less. We maintained a very professional, sexual relationship. He did not mind my aggressive tastes, but I did not allow him any option but to comply. I was, after all, financing his graduate education. If I told him to kneel, Daniel knelt. If I told him to be silent while I hit him, and he did not, I would place a ball gag in his mouth to suppress his cries and hit him harder. My hands would sting for a considerable amount of time after. I smile at the memory of my Daniel. But sometimes business relationships must be terminated, and it ended when Linc moved me to Washington.

I must seem like a monster to you, a sadist, completely incapable of having real, compassionate human relationships."

"No, Elena. I don't think you are a _sadist_," Flynn distorts the word like a curse, "But I do believe you and I should spend some time understanding, together. If you prefer, we could meet regularly on this day and time."

I want to run, to be somewhere far away. However, I desire to be closer to John Flynn, to lure him, to possess him. "Tuesday, then, 7:30?" I say, rising to my feet, turning my back, and looking over my shoulder to find his face. He nods, smirking, too rising to escort me from his office. We walk from the room, down the dimly lit hallway, to a door that he opens for me, and after a few steps, I hear the door click closed behind me. I walk on, smiling, hopeful. I have found a project.


End file.
